


darkness will show you the way

by teenageraccoon



Series: this time-bound conscience [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 16:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenageraccoon/pseuds/teenageraccoon
Summary: “‘S okay,” Steve murmurs, and leans his head against the back of Bucky’s. “We’re okay. I’m here.” Bucky shifts, curls into Steve, and feels Steve kiss his head again. His eyes close, and yeah, maybe he could stand this just for a few more hours. And this time, thank God, he manages to sleep until morning.





	darkness will show you the way

**Author's Note:**

> Set during CA:TFA a little while after the events in Austria. For the purpose of this, the Howling Commandos are still stationed in Azzano. Disclaimer: my knowledge of military workings does not extend to the WWII era so significant liberties have been taken

It’s not that Bucky…_dislikes _any of the 107th, because he doesn't. It’s just that, as the poker game nears an hour and everyone gets progressively rowdier, he gets progressively more on edge, and Steve is nowhere to be seen. And the only time he’s been any less hypervigilant recently is with Steve around, no matter how much he hates to admit it, and without Steve there, he finds himself at his wits end. Hands his cards off to someone else, doesn’t really take note of who, and goes to find somewhere to sit in silence. Doubts he’ll really rest, but maybe the quiet and solitude will help his headache and offer some reprieve to the crawling feeling he gets from being in his own skin.

The solitude, however, doesn’t last for long. “You planning on sleeping like that?” Steve asks as he enters the showgirls’ dressing room slash sleeping quarters twenty minutes after Bucky’s slunk away. Bucky is on a cot in the corner, leaning up against one of the beams supporting the entire thing, with his knees drawn up to his chest and an M42 in a tight grip. Bucky stares at him. He’s not startled, really, knew that Steve would come seeking him out sooner or later, but since the camaraderie was be too much he figured that the tent-structure dressing room was the best option for not being found. Not being bothered for a while, at least, but Steve doesn’t fit in the category of ‘bother’. Bucky’s eyes shift to the flap-door behind Steve and then back over to his friend, and he lets out a soft snort of laughter.

“Wasn’t planning on it, no,” he says, and Steve hums, as if this is somehow insightful.

“That ‘cause you were planning to lay down first, or ‘cause you were planning on staying awake no matter the cost?” Steve asks and sits down on the cot across from the one that Bucky’s temporarily claimed as his.

“‘Cause I wasn’t fucking tired,” comes Bucky’s response, and he knows the moment he speaks that it comes out too harsh and abrasive to be remotely believable. Steve raises his eyebrows.

“Not buyin’ that one, pal,” he says. “You look like you’ve been put through the wringer.” Bucky laughs again, and it’s still as humorless as before.

“Yeah, well, can't say that you’re wrong.” Steve shifts to sit on the same cot as Bucky. Bucky tried his damndest not to tense up, isn’t sure if it works, is sure that Steve notices regardless. “S’not like I’ve had a whole lot of opportunities to get some shut-eye.” And Bucky is sure that Steve sees right through that lie too, knows as well as Bucky does that none of the rescued 107th has seen any sort of real activity since their return, but Steve doesn’t call his bluff.

“We’ve got time now,” Steve states instead. Bucky watches him and Steve holds eye contact until it becomes clear that Bucky isn’t going to say anything in response to that. “Bucky,” he says, and looks back down to his lap. “None of us have been sleeping well, you know that, no one’s going to think any less–”

“_Stop_,” Bucky says, so firmly that Steve does. “Steve, just– go play cards with Dugan and the fucking Frenchman. Or whatever they’re doing now.”

“Dernier cheats,” Steve retorts. As if that’s any actual reason not to leave. “C’mon, Buck, give me the rifle. I’ll keep watch—what? I’m nottired—and you’ve got to sleep before you collapse.” Bucky gives Steve a pointed look, and then sets the rifle down next to himself. Doesn’t hand it over, but allows Steve to take it.

“You know, Steve, the girls are probably going to want their room back.” It’s a weak argument, and Steve just raises his eyebrows as he rests the butt of the rifle on the ground.

“Okay,” Steve says simply, “they can work around us.” Bucky laughs again, and it’s a bit more genuine this time.

“D’you forget the ‘captain’ is all symbolic?” he quips. “I still don’t think you’re in much of a position to actually be dealing out orders, least not ones that anyone’s got to follow.”

“You and Carter can talk about that together tomorrow. After you’ve slept.” Bucky huffs, but lets his knees away from his chest a bit. Not enough to be comfortable, or any less on guard, but a bit.

“Still fuckin’ stubborn as all Hell, huh?” he mutters. Steve grins and reaches to the cot he was sitting on before, yanks off the blanket with ease and hands it to Bucky. Bucky pulls it over his legs and leans more of his weight into the post behind him, but makes no motion towards laying down.

“You planning on sleeping like that?” Steve asks again, but it’s not a joke this time. Bucky shrugs.

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” Steve gets up, and for a sickening moment, Bucky thinks he’s leaving. Instead of walking out of the tent, though, he just knots the flimsy tie for the door-flaps and says, “Take off your boots, Buck.” That’s easy enough, and, when he thinks about it, sounds awfully nice. Steve and grabs another blanket from one of the other beds before he sits next to Bucky while Bucky finishes unlacing his boots and sets them on the ground. Steve picks up the rifle and props it between the waxed-canvas wall and the cot, and then nudges Bucky’s leg with his own. “If you’re not going to lay down, you may as well get comfortable.” Which is another thing that sounds pleasant, now that Steve’s put the idea in his head, and he shifts. Lets Steve settle his legs on either side of Bucky and put pressure on his chest until he leans back, relaxing into Steve. He still has a clear sightline to the entrance, and Steve—newly super-strong Steve, that is—keeping armed watch helps calm his hypervigilance some. He extends his legs and doesn’t complain when Steve pulls the two borrowed blankets over him, just nestles his head against Steve’s shoulder.

And it’s weird, he thinks, how he can do that now without worrying about crushing Steve. How he can do _any_ of this now, without worrying about Steve. Or at least, not worrying about leaving Steve bruised and sore from his body weight.

“Girls’re gonna want in here,” he says, a final protestation as exhaustion finally starts to win out over paranoia. “Gonna get in trouble, probably.”

“I only tied it tight enough to keep it closed from the wind, and I’ll take the fall.” Steve wraps one arm around Bucky’s waist and presses his nose against Bucky’s hair. “Jus’ go to sleep.”

And somehow, miraculously, Bucky does.

Goes to sleep for a little while, at least, before he jerks awake, scared and shaking and so, _so _fucking cold.

“Bucky,” someone says. Steve says, because they’re in Azzano and _Steve_ is in Azzano and that is definitely, unmistakably Steve’s voice. Unmistakable even after Bucky’d been pumped full of sedatives and suppressants and whatever it took them to get him strapped down, and then pumped full of whatever elseit was that had made his body hurt like Hell. “Hey.” Steve’s voice is quiet and calm and Bucky is still scared out of his fucking mind. “You’re okay, you just had a bad dream, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Bucky reaches up, pulls at the collar of his undershirt, feels it soaked with sweat. Steve keeps talking. “I’m right here, just breathe. It’s me and the showgirls and they’re all sound asleep, it’s been a quiet night and you’re safe. It was just a bad dream.”

Bucky brings a hand up to his face and rubs his eyes, feels his skin slick with sweat too, and exhales. It’s a huff and a sigh and a desperate attempt to reorient himself all at once. He must’ve kicked the blankets off, because his legs are exposed, and he feels the pile of wool when he reaches to the ground. He drags them back into the cot and stands but doesn’t go anywhere.

He can’t see Steve’s face, but can see his posture, and figures that Steve’s expression is probably something akin to concerned but helpless as he looks at Bucky.

“You slept for a few hours, but it’s a while till morning,” Steve says. “You’re still tired, and I’ll keep watch for the rest of the night.”

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Bucky chokes out, and then realizes that he’s probably too loud. None of the girls stir, though, and he lowers his voice to match Steve’s before speaking again. “Did I say anything?” The hesitation before Steve’s response is an answer in and of itself, but he doesn’t have to push.

“Not sure what,” Steve tells him, “but you were mumbling.” Bucky can tell that’s not a lie, and he exhales again.

“My turn on watch,” Bucky says, and motions for Steve to move, even though Steve can’t see it in the dark.

“I’m still wide awake, and you’re still exhausted. Why don’t you stop being so stubborn and go back to sleep. I’ll be stubborn enough for both of us.” That makes Bucky breathe out a laugh that’s real, and the following breaths sound deep and even for the first time since his nightmare started.

He picks his boots up off the ground and starts to move away, not sure where he’s going but needing to leave, and then there’s a hand on his wrist. Not holding him back, he could still pull away and leave easily if he chose, but just…a request.

“Stay,” Steve whispers, and he sounds hopeful. “Please. Just a few more hours.” And somehow that’s convincing enough for Bucky.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah,” and sits back down. He becomes aware of the cool air against the sweat on his skin and the way that the cot moves under his weight and he lets Steve pull him back again, position him to lean against Steve’s chest the way he was before. Relaxation doesn’t come as easily this time, but Steve’s fingers card through his hair without concern for the dampness and Bucky reaches up to hold Steve’s free hand, his arm wrapped solidly around Bucky’s torso, and yet again finds himself thankful that Steve isn’t so breakable anymore. Steve pulls the blanket up, hiding their intertwined hands and pushing away some of the biting cold, and presses a barely-there kiss to the shell of Bucky’s ear.

“‘S okay,” Steve murmurs, and leans his head against the back of Bucky’s. “We’re okay. I’m here.” Bucky shifts, curls into Steve, and feels Steve kiss his head again. His eyes close, and yeah, maybe he could stand this just for a few more hours.

This time, thank God, he manages to sleep until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](http://teenageraccoon.tumblr.com)  



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